Molly Has a Secret, and It's Victoria's!
by cactusnell
Summary: Sherlock starts to obsess about Molly's lingerie. Sherlolly


Dr. John Watson made his way into the sitting room, rubbing his eyes, and trying to ignore the cries of his hungry infant. Lacking the equipment to assuage her cries, the good doctor was leaving that to his wife while he ventured forth to make coffee. As he made his way through to the kitchen, he was startled by a baritone voice asking, "Does that caterwauling happen every morning, John?"

"Yes, mate, it just about does. Claire can't help it if she wakes up hungry. I'm sorry that my daughter is disturbing your beauty sleep, but what the bloody hell are you doing on my couch, anyway?"

Sherlock was speaking, but all John could hear through his sleep addled mind were snatches of conversation, such as, "couldn't sleep", "Molly", and "disturbing."

"Look, mate, let me get some coffee down my throat before we continue this conversation, huh?" John then busied himself in the kitchen as Sherlock Holmes flopped back down on his couch with a heavy sigh. Mary now appeared in the room, clutching a feeding infant to her breast, and muttered. "What's his nibs doing here again, then?"

"I can hear you, you know. I'm not dead."

"You will be if you keep showing up on my couch at all hours of the day or night. I could shoot you, you know, and claim I thought you were a burglar."

"Shoot me then, and be done with it! I could do with some eternal rest at this point!" The detective sighed, and fluffed a couch pillow. He then turned around and opened his eyes, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and looked at mother and child. "For god's sake, Mary. Must you do that in public?"

"I'm not in public, you git. I'm in my own sitting room! You're the one who's out of place here, not my breast." Mary huffed her response, but, seeing his discomfort, pulled her robe more tightly around her.

"John, did you ask him why he isn't sleeping at home?"

"I did, indeed, love, but all I got were some mutterings. Maybe if we douse him with water he'll become conscious enough to form a coherent answer." Instead, John decided to dose him with coffee, and hope for the best.

Within a short period of time, three adults were sufficiently awake to make sense, while a sated infant sat cooing on her mother's lap. Sherlock may have been tempted to lie back down, but John maneuvered him into an upright position, and locked him in place with cushions and his own body. Mary spoke first to her husband. "You deal with him, love, while I get ready for work." Next, she said to Sherlock, "Here, take your goddaughter. Try not to drop her, her warranty has just expired."

Sherlock took the infant onto his lap, and gave her an exhausted smile. "How do you manage, Claire, with such inadequate parents? It must be such a trial!"

John took a large swig of coffee, and asked, "So what gives, mate. You should be home in bed, not on my couch. Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I was sleeping, John, until the incessant noise awakened me…"

"Why aren't you sleeping at Baker Street, you git. Is there a problem?"

"Molly…"

"How can Molly Hooper be a problem? You were the one who invited her to take my old room. You came up with eighty-seven different advantages to her living there, from a reduction in her rent, to having regular meals and cleaning services. Not to mention the ease with which you can now acquire experimental media, and…"

"John, have you ever heard of Victoria's Secret?"

" 'Course I have. Every red-blooded heterosexual male knows about Victoria's Secret. What has that got to do with you?"

"What do you mean, 'what has that got to do with' me, John. Are you questioning the color of my blood, my sexual orientation, or my gender? Please be more concise!"

"Don't get all in an uproar, mate. I've seen the blood, and I've seen the, uh, equipment. As to the other, I don't really know, and I don't really care. I do have suspicions, however, which are the opposite of the views held by your landlady. Remember, I've caught you perusing porn sites…"

"Research, John!"

"Yes, well, be that as it may, along with the fact that you never once made a pass at me, although my wife informs me I am absolutely adorable, I have formed an opinion on your sexuality. I just thought that you were not overly interested in the more obvious…"

"I never have been, before, John. Of course, I may have perused your magazines, glanced at billboards of winged, lingerie-clad nymphs, but I have never been this distracted to the point of sleeplessness. I don't require much sleep, as you know, but even I need some!"

"So why can't you sleep at home, Sherlock?" John said gently.

"I have discovered, through innocent observation, mind you, not snooping, that Molly Hooper shops at Victoria's Secret!"

"Really? Sweet, little Molly. Imagine that."

"I do, John! I can't stop imagining that! Little lacy things under those lumpy jumpers and baggy trousers! Silk chemises under her dressing gown! Tiny flowers, and little satin bows, and black garters, and…"

"Slow down, mate. You're getting a bit over-excited, there." John chuckled at his friend's discomfort.

"I know, John. As I've said, I've seen pictures, the adverts, but the thought of my Molly in those things drives me to distraction. And I can deal with it when there is something else to do. But when I lie down in my bed, my mind clear, these images come into my mind. And she's so close. Just in the other room. And…"

"So what do you do?"

"I take a cold shower. Sometimes two. If the second doesn't work, I come over here. Your couch is not overly comfortable, John, but the discomfort caused by the lumps and springs tend to relieve the discomfort caused by other things, if you understand me?" Sherlock looked absolutely bereft. "What should I do, John?"

"Have you ever thought of just giving in, Sherlock? Make a move? Get out of the cold shower and into a warm bed? You must know the way Molly feels about you. Everybody does. Some people even have a lottery pool going on about when you two will finally get together. Mary started it just after you convinced her to take my old room. In fact, what's today's date?"

"The twelfth…"

"Well, if you go home now, and make a move in the next," here the doctor glanced at his watch, "say, seventeen hours, I could make quite a bit of money!"

"How much is quite a bit? I'd like to think my future is worth more than a few pence…"

"Never mind that, mate. But I believe Mycroft has the next three days, and I know you don't want to give him the satisfaction…"

"What do I say, John. How do I…"

"Never mind that, Sherlock. You're wearing her favorite purple…"

"Aubergine, John"

"...aubergine shirt. That seems to have the same effect on Molly as lacy underwear has on you. I don't think you'll have to say much, mate." John Watson snickered, knowing he spoke the truth. "Now get the bloody hell back home before you chicken out!" And Sherlock rose quickly, pulled on his Belstaff, and hurried out the door.

When Mary Watson returned to the sitting room, she found her husband bouncing little Claire on his knee, and Sherlock Holmes nowhere to be found. "Sent him on his way, did you?"

"Yeah, well, Mary, you'll never believe this. He's been obsessing over Molly's choice of undergarments. Little lacy things, it turns out. She's been shopping at Victoria's Secret, it seems."

"I know, John. I took her there myself. Told her to leave the catalog out in the sitting room, and the empty shopping bags, too. I was getting a little impatient. Are you going to take me to dinner with your winnings, love?"

"Maybe I could take you shopping instead. Does Victoria's Secret make nursing bras?" And John Watson gave his wife a big squeeze and a nice kiss.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was a man on a mission. He had determined that he would tell his Molly a big secret about his feelings, if she would share Victoria's Secret with him!


End file.
